


A Collection of Gay Short Stories

by NoodleSpudoodle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Androids, Character Turned Into Vampire, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Demon/Human Relationships, Demons, Everyone Is Gay, Gay, Gay Character, Gay Male Character, Human-Werewolf Interactions, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Magic, Murder, Original Character(s), Vampire Bites, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-08-19 07:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoodleSpudoodle/pseuds/NoodleSpudoodle
Summary: Just like the title says, it's a book of gay short stories.





	1. Prelude to Summer Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gay death angel has an existential crisis, but is cheered up by fellow gay, but not-yet-boyfriend demon. Cuteness level: 8/10.

"Okay... calm down Deep breath in," Lucille took in a large gulp of air in a weak attempt to steady his raging nerves, "Deep breath out." He let out a long sigh and shook with nervousness as his mind raced with the thoughts as to what events would take place in the next month of summer camp ― or better yet, death row ― that was starting in just a few hours. It was a Monday, a fresh, horrible start to Lucille's week already, with an added bonus of being woken up at five in the morning.

The teen hadn't actually wanted to go to the camp anyways; His grandfather, who seemed quite young for the title ― James ― had forced him against his will, saying that it would be good for him, and would 'change his view on the world'. It was a place for humans and ― as the humans called any creatures that weren't themselves ― freaks to mingle, and he definitely wasn't a human. He was also definitely not an early riser.

"Hmm," Lucille gave a thoughtful look to the pristine white carpet of his bedroom floor and tilted his head. "What am I going to do?"

As he pondered, a contemplative frown crept onto his face and played on his lips. "I just need to keep everyone away from―" He began, but his younger _"sister"_ ― Shiloh ― strutted into the room, fresh from the shower. She flung his hair smack-dab into Lucille's mouth as he spoke to himself, and he made a grandiose effort to dramatically spit it out and gave his tongue a disgusted wipe. "Another saltwater bath? You know I can't shower with the place reeking of fish, and salt only makes things worse." He growled, getting an immediate response from the younger teen's piranha like teeth snapping dangerously close to his face in warning, only millimeters from the tip of his nose. "Mermaids." Lucille scoffed.

He made sure to leer over at her as Shiloh sat down on the bed and began to pull clean, fish-smelling clothes from her camp suitcase before Lucille backed out of the room and let his feet lead him to the soft, velvet couch that sat in front of the TV. Shiloh always insisted on using his bedroom to dress herself, because the air conditioning in her room 'didn't work', but Lucille knew that she only really did it because Shiloh wanted to torment him by stealing away his room for hours on end and when the mer knew he needed it for studying.

He really hated mer-kind. They sat at the beaches wearing skimpy bikinis that were obviously way too tight, or sat shirtless, and gave the impression that they were more than willing to have a fun time. They blew kisses to what they dubbed as hot guys, or women, and lured them into the water, only to simply drag them under to meet their untimely deaths and feast on their lifeless bodies ― or even living ones, depending on their preferences.

To Lucille, it didn't sound like someone any person with a brain would want to hang out with, but then again, he was immune to any sort of love magic, so he didn't really know if the kind that the mer used could be resisted or not. His stomach rumbled, and his thoughts wandered to breakfast. A decent death angel needed his energy, after all.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" William chirped, clasping his hands on Lucille's shoulders, nearly making him shoot a venomous glare back at the sensitive fairy before physically restraining himself.

He'd been oh-so-ironically been given the nickname Sunshine by Will when they'd first met, before finding out he was a death angel. That being, Sunshine wasn't exactly the ideal nickname for him, especially considering how he'd caused the accidental death of his parents, but Lucille didn't like upsetting Will, especially since the man had been the only person willing to adopt him, so he stuck with the nickname just for Will.

"I've told you specifically to not call me that." Lucille grumbled, standing from the couch and heading to the kitchen to see if his sense of smell was still intact after Shiloh's attempt at cooking dinner the previous night that had caused him to become nose blind ― which was probably a good thing, because he was almost sure that if he'd been exposed to the smell for much longer than he had, it would have killed him.

It had been a horrible thing, really. One thing he hated the most, at a very close second to mermaids, was having to sleep with his mouth open.

The smell of pancakes were thick in the air, nearly making him dry heave from the nauseous feeling that it had always given him. Will followed Lucille into the kitchen and looked from the pan of pancakes on the stovetop to the teen, a gentle look on his face.

"I'll stop calling you Sunshine when you stop calling me William. It makes me feel old. Call me Will, at least." He joked, then motioned to the pan. "Would you like a few pancakes this morning, Lucille?" He asked politely in the tone that he always used when he tried to make his son feel normal.

Lucille thought for a moment, wondering if he should lighten Will's mood a bit by choking it down, then hesitantly shook his head. "Sorry Will... I'd throw up. No offense, of course, I'm sure that your cooking is amazing, though, as always." He turned to open the fridge, the cool air in the fridge washing over his face and shoulders, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. "I can take some with me, though, if you want?"

"No, no, I wouldn't want you getting sick. I just thought that maybe..." He closed his mouth, shaking his head and focusing hard on the whisk in his hand and mixing another bowl of eggs.

It didn't really matter if he said it or not; Lucille knew what he'd been thinking.

_'I just thought that maybe you might have woken up normal today.'_

Lucille stiffened, cheeks dusted a pale, light pink color in shame, and swiftly turned back to his adoptive father, shutting the fridge door. He didn't normally care if people were upset with him, since it happened so frequently, but when it came to William, it hurt him more than anything.

"Y-you know what, I'll take two!" He exclaimed bashfully, then pulled out a plate to eat and swiftly plopped two fresh, golden pancakes onto his plate. "Here ― I'll even take some with and eat it later." Lucille worked to grab a container to place the breakfast in, determined to lighten Will's mood.

The teen didn't like upsetting Will, considering that he was the only person willing to take him into his care after what chaos Lucille had caused. A small sigh of relief managed to slip from his lips as the man took the container from him and eased three pancakes into it, and he nodded his thanks, then sat down at the counter to eat.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a hint of a smile on his dad's face, and couldn't help but grin. He cut into a pancake with his fork and held it to his lips, then slowly eased it into his mouth and chewed, fighting back the urge to gag as he swallowed.

Death angels couldn't quite consume regular food. If they did, it would come right back up again within seconds to minutes, and it took quite the stomach to swallow, considering it tasted like how a week old piece of meat left out in the sun for a month would.

When they had first come into existence, originally created to be regular angels, some had strayed off to turn to darker practices, using forms of magic to raise the dead ― a practice punishable by a gruesome death and eternal damnation ― to cause destruction, and some began killing for sport, ending the lives of innocent people for their own pleasure.

Because of that, a curse was set on every death angel in existence. If a angel converted, their bodies were shifted and manipulated due to the curse, and could only consume the flesh of the living and dead, but animals were a fair substitute. Their body's changes were made to make them be monster-like and sickly looking, ranging from having pale skin, vertical slit eyelids, and unnatural qualities that weren't just cosmetic. However, if a death angel only consumed animal meat for a lengthy amount of time, they started to experience nasty withdrawals.

On the bright side, Lucille didn't have to eat any vegetables.

A nasty snarl rumbled in the angel's gut, and he hunched over, clutching at his stomach with a pained whimper, feeling the undigested food he'd eaten start to crawl up his throat. He'd managed to down half a pancake, which he was pretty proud of, since he'd only been able to force down two small bites before that.

Lucille made an attempt at taking another bite, but began to heave and rushed to the trash can, falling to his knees beside it and throwing up. "I'm sorry..." He grumbled, feeling a hand ruffle his hair as round two with the trash was initiated. "I got half of one, at least!" The teen grinned up at his dad and laughed, then hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry I'm not... you know... normal."

"Now don't have that tone with me, young man! You're perfect just the way you are, Lucille, and you know it!"

That was a lie, and they both knew that.

Lucille's frown didn't waver. "Sure, Will."

He cleaned off his mouth and opened up the fridge, pulling out the drawer reserved for whatever odd things he'd decided that seemed good to eat, from raw strips of meat to the various severed limbs that his dad had always been sad to see when he brought them home, and items he needed for his studies.

He never heard the end of it when he'd show up at the doorstep with blood dripping down his chin. Since the last time, a few weeks ago, William had put him on a strictly human-free diet, which, overall, was a very, very bad idea. Currently, the fridge drawer was supposed to be occupied with strips of animal meat, since Lucille had moved his other items into the small cooler in his room. However, it had since been emptied of its contents.

His eyes narrowed at the barren refrigerator box, and his mind flicked to Shiloh, and the nasty grin she'd given him earlier that morning before getting into the shower, and he felt his voice rise up in his throat.

"Shiloh!" He roared angrily, causing Will to jump in shock, and shrill laughter rang out through the house.

Shiloh danced into the kitchen with Lucille's many bags of meat and gave him an innocent look, even going the extra mile to stick out her lower lip in a pout that made the angel want to shove her into a vat of boiling oil and advertise a fish fry.

"Looking for these?" She teased in a sing-song voice, grinning like a menace as she dangled the sandwiches in front of his face.

Lucille let loose an animalistic growl, making her laugh even harder than she'd been before. It was a wrong thing for Lucille to kill for food, sure, but Shiloh did it too, and James never made a peep about that.

"You know you don't scare me, Lucy!"

"Give 'em back!" The angel demanded, folding his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes. "Or would you like to be my breakfast this morning? I've never had raw fish before. If you'd prefer a less grueling fate, I could always feed you to the damned."

"Lucille." Will warned, giving him a pointed look.

Shiloh made a face and tossed him his bags of food. "I wasn't actually going to eat them anyway. I mean, yuck! It's not even fresh!" She gagged. "You're disgusting."

Lucille's jaw dropped, and he looked down at his bags, then held them aside. "You'd better take that back, shrimp." He growled, shooting a glare poisonous enough to kill a man at Shiloh as he set the bags back into the fridge drawer and closed the door tight.

Shiloh had most likely kept those in her room all night, and Lucille didn't want them to spoil before he got to camp.

Another growl came from the teen, but it wasn't from his throat. He doubled over in pain, collapsing onto the floor in a heap and gasping sharply.

Stupid diet.

"Emergency." The angel groaned, giving his dad a pleading look as the man seemed hesitant at his words. "Please," he begged, his chest heaving, "I need it, Will, I'm sorry."

His begging seemed to do the trick, and a hand was tossed to him. He caught it mid air and tried to get up to go somewhere private ― Will didn't like watching him eat ― but he could barely move.

"Will, you should―" Lucille started to say, but a pair of arms wrapped around him, and he felt Will ruffle his hair comfortingly, assuring him that he wasn't going to leave him.

The angel looked down to the hand he'd been thrown, a sigh slipping past his lips, and he eagerly tore into it with his sets of sharpened teeth, blood splattering onto his tongue as he stripped the flesh from it.

Shiloh rolled her eyes, muttering something that sounded an awful lot like 'psycho' before she proceeded to loom over the pancakes cooking in Will's frying pan.

Making a crude gesture behind her back, Lucille let her insult go, because he was nearly ninety-nine point nine percent sure that the camp was serving locally caught fish for dinner. He'd get his indirect revenge, whether Shiloh liked it or not.

Maybe camp wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Lucy, maybe you shouldn't go. After all, there's always next year." Will gently rubbed at Lucille's back, biting his lip at the sight of the savage, distant expression on the teen's face as he ate. "You can... you can stay back with me, and we can give you a bit more time to adjust to your diet."

Lucille shook his head, sighing. "No, it would just end up being a waste of four-hundred dollars." The brunet offered Will a small smile. "I'm fine."

The man above him didn't return the smile, only squeezed the teen tighter. "So," He started, desperate to change the subject, "which team is that friend of yours on? That boy... Edgar, was it?"

"He prefers to be called Ed," Lucille stated, then hastily added, "Not that I actually care, of course. He's on my team, but I'm just glad I'll be mer-shrimp free."

He messily gnawed on the chunk of meat in his mouth and jabbed a thumb in Shiloh's direction, and the mer stuck her tongue out at Lucille in response.

"Although he fully intends to help me hide a few bodies now and again. If I'm lucky, Shiloh's corpse will be one of them."

"Lucille! That's not at all appropriate. And I don't want any mention of bodies, ever." Will scolded in a disapproving tone.

The angel averted his gaze, taking another large bite from the hand and chewing it clean before tossing it into the trash can, hearing a faint 'eww' from Shiloh.

"We've only got a few minutes, Lucille, so I suggest you hurry up with packing. And so help me, if I hear about another mutilated corpse from your doing, I'm going to drive up to the camp and wrench you back home by the ear." Will announced, biting his lip as his son seemed hurt by his statement. "S-sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"It's fine. Besides, I have a handle on myself now. S-sort of." The teen quickly gathered up food for the bus ride, dashed into his room to escape the conversation, and slung his duffel bag and sleeping bag over his shoulders, then rushed out to the car ― or as James called it to entertain Lucille and Shiloh when they were younger, his _magic mobile_. Shiloh plopped down in the back seat, a pancake dangling from her teeth. Will was lugging her bags to the trunk, and eventually sat in the driver's seat next to his son.

Lucille slipped his headphones onto his ears before anybody could find a way to start a discussion including him ― Shiloh was already trying to find away to pick a fight with him about how he never let her sit in the passenger's seat, and immediately delivered a sharp kick to the back of his seat, earning a chastising glance from Will in return.

It was silent for the rest of the ride, until the car came to a halt at the cabins they would be dropped off at and got out of the car. Lucille hurriedly said goodbye to Will grabbed his things, and began to rush inside, ready to get the _'summer getaway spectacular'_ over and done with as soon and as painless ― painless for him anyways ― as possible, but was swiftly halted by his dad.

"Lucille," Will looked the angel directly in his eyes, "have a good time, okay? Or try to, at least." He pressed a hard kiss to Lucille's forehead. "I love you."

"Bye, Dad." Lucille resumed his journey inside, eager to find Edgar.

People briefly glanced to him, not daring to meet his eyes, either fearing an attack, or just not wanting to socialize with vermin like him. After all, he radiated death, so it wasn't hard to pick out a death angel in a crowd. It was like being a beacon of light in a pitch back room. As soon as more people caught wind of him, comments lit up the room like a wildfire, and Lucille could only manage to hear a few over everyone talking at once.

_"How much do you want to bet that half the camp will drop dead before the end of the first week?"_

__

__

_"Is it really safe to have someone like him here? Shouldn't he be locked away somewhere?"_

Overall, it was extremely demeaning, and just the slightest bit offensive, but, as usual, Lucille tried to not let it get to him. Besides, if anyone tried to pick a fight with him, it'd end badly for his opponent, that much was for sure.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!"

A small smile crept onto Lucille's lips as he turned around to spot his closest and only friend Edgar, his black, wavy, half-shaved hair hanging over his left eye as he strode over to him. The other teen grinned, his fangs glinting in the light of the room, and he pressed a fist to Lucille's own.

"The Troublesome Twosome reunite to inflict terror among the campers. I think I like the sound of that newspaper headline, how about you? Seems fitting enough for us." He chuckled, running a hand through his hair and glancing about the room. He spotted a small clique of girls and smirked, then nudged Lucille in the arm. "Think you could do a pal a favor and hook me up with one of those chicks over there with that magic mumbo-jumbo of yours?"

"Finally trying to put yourself out in the vast fields of romance? Props to you, my good chum. Finally upgrading from a glorified outcast to a bachelor." Lucille teased, laughing lightly when he saw Edgar's cheeks light up in embarrassment.

The demon gave him a light punch in the shoulder and shook his head in disbelief.

Demons weren't that much different from death angels, appearance-wise or diet-wise, and were often quite friendly with each other. One of the main differences Lucille noticed was that demons could kill and eat all the humans they wanted to and still be chick magnets, whereas everyone just screamed and ran when a death angel was in the room.

"I meant to eat! Yeesh, when did you start cracking jokes?" Edgar snorted, rolling his eyes before slinging an arm over Lucille's shoulders. "How have you been holding up, anyways?"

Lucille allowed himself to ease up, and he leaned on Edgar with a groan. "I'll tell you later. Nothing new, really, except for multiple events of 'Shiloh Strikes Back' and being grounded to my room by myself watching what little movies I could from the VHS tapes I found lying around under my bed." He mumbled, eyes drifting to the swarm of people that were entering the chapel. "Come on, I think we're supposed to be inside there."

In the room, a large group of various races were assembled in a mass of chairs. More people slowly filled the room just before the chapel doors were pushed closed behind them, and a wild looking redhead she troll stormed into the room as though trying to forcibly drag a sense of authority behind her astoundingly short self. She then hoisted herself up onto the stool in front of the stage where the band usually played and cleared her throat.

"Alright, listen up!" She bellowed, raising a hand in the air to signal she wanted silence before pausing to thumb through a manila folder.

The she-troll rambled on for a good half hour about the rules and regulations of the camp, seemingly without a single pause for breath.

"As for the sleeping arrangements, you all will sleep in the cabin of your counselor, which, as I said earlier, will be in charge of a certain number of members from your team. But for some of the..." She paused to glance over at Lucille, Edgar, and a few other members of the darker races before continuing, "special campers, you will all be housed in groups of two, apart from the others, with a supervisor that will attend you wherever you go. If they, or any other campers end up injured, or come back to tell us about any mishaps about you, you'll be sent home immediately."

Edgar let out a snort and leaned in close to Lucille's ear. "They'll have to go on a manhunt for bones once I'm done with my supervisor." He chuckled, licking his lips eagerly before kicking back in his seat and giving Lucille a sympathetic look. "That puts you in a tough spot though. You can't exactly consume the entire body of a human. I probably shouldn't eat anybody anyways. I mean, they could legally charge me for murder if I'm caught, after all. I don't think my parents would be happy about me being put on death row."

"And I'd be alone with no friends. Oh ― and I might cry too."

Camp journals, water bottles, and team color bracelets that varied from red, green, yellow, and blue were handed out to each of the teens attending camp, along with a few more handouts, and they were shooed away to the parking lot. Mostly everyone managed to form a single file line and raced onto one of the buses, with the exception of society's outcasts. Bonus; they got their own bus too.

Lucille and Edgar were the last two to get on, and sat towards the front ― just in case Edgar got carsick like he often did on the way to school in the mornings.

The bus driver ― who happened to be the same troll from before ― stood up to address the misfits and blew hard on a whistle on a string around her neck for silence. "Now, before we leave, we're going to go over the mandatory bus rules." She announced.

Others in the back continued to chat, ignoring her, and Lucille immediately tuned her out.

Edgar leaned onto Lucille's shoulder, humming beneath his breath. "So, how's Will? You two still getting along okay?"

Lucille nodded, shifting positions slightly for Edgar's comfort. "Aside from the incident a few weeks ago, we've been doing fine." He heaved out a sigh. "But don't get me started on Shiloh. I swear, she's still jealous of me even after I've been with her and James for eight years."

"Aww, poor Lucy." Edgar grinned, pinching at Lucille's ear and draping himself across his lap, bending an arm behind his head. "You could always move in with my dads and I. I'd take _good_ care of you." 

A snort slipped from the angel, and he shook his head in disbelief. "God, Ed, you're awful." He chuckled. "Come on, let's play some cards, or something."

Eventually, the bus pulled to a stop at a gas station, and Lucille glanced upwards towards the window to find that they were in a small cul-de-sac of fast food joints. He wasn't that hungry, but he'd have to go out and get something if he wanted anything halfway decent to eat.

The she-troll stood from her chair and gave her whistle a hard blow. "Alright, listen up!" She shouted, continuing to sound the whistle until everyone's eyes were on her. "The rules regarding lunch are," She pulled a paper from her back pocket and sniffed, eyeing each teen on the bus individually with a glare before continuing, "No running, jumping, flying, mutilating, eating other people ― you know what, just stay out of trouble, and we can be on our merry little way so nobody has to suffer being stuffed in this sardine can of a bus for any longer than we have to. You're all free to go."

One by one, the other eager teens and pre-teens rushed to get off of the bus, leaving Lucille and Edgar alone on the bus. The demon hopped up, opened up the window nearest to him, and inhaled deeply, then sighed. "Mmm, smell that? People." He turned to Lucille and grinned. "Sucks to be you! You're not allowed to binge on anything but animals."

Lucille gave Edgar a playful shove and shook his head as the demon chuckled, then pulled out a bag filled with chunks of bloodied animal meat that Will had packed him the previous night. "Joke's on you, I had some this morning." He pointed out, feeling a pang of jealousy as Edgar slipped out a sandwich from his bag and bit into what he was supposed to be eating. "I'm not that hungry, anyways."

"L-Luce... You broke your diet?" Edgar asked softly, leaning forward to glance into the brunet's eyes. "Lucy..."

The angel hung his head slightly, and Edgar clamped his mouth shut.

_Oops._

"H-here," Edgar swiftly yanked off a good portion of his sandwich and handed it to Lucille, who tentatively nibbled at it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. It's not really my place." He said, scooting a bit closer to the teen and giving his shoulder a pat. "You'd better eat up. I can't have you going after me, now can I? After all, Will trusts me ― well, more or less trusts me to keep an eye on you, Lucy-bear."

"Don't call me that." Lucille groaned, leaning on Edgar's shoulder with a small smile on his lips. He felt the demon touch his cheek, and Edgar tipped his chin upwards, their faces only a few inches away. His heartbeat quickened its pace, and he slowly leaned in close to him, his eyes widening when Edgar suddenly turned away. He let out a cough and straightened his back, lifting his head from his shoulder and downing the rest of the sandwich Edgar had given him to snack on. "Erm... so... I haven't seen you in weeks since I got grounded a while back."

Edgar bit his lip. _Ugh... what was he thinking?!_ He felt a hand nudge his shoulder, and his brain finally acknowledged Lucille's voice. "I-I've been fine. I've been bored without having you around." His cheeks flushed, and he turned back to his sandwich. "I mean, jeez, you practically dropped off the face of the earth without a word. I was... a bit worried." He laughed a bit, then patted Lucille's head and ruffled his disheveled hair. "Even my dads were asking about you, wondering why you were missing dinner. I think you've managed to convince them that you live with us. I assumed you were alright ― and look! Here you are."

Lucille wiped his hands off on his pants. "Yeah, I guess."

The demon leaned back against the seat, then pulled out his music player and a pair of headphones and motioned to it as he set them on his head. "I'm going to listen to music, alright? Are you okay with that?" He asked politely, turning up the volume as the angel nodded back to him.

While music blasted in Edgar's ears, everyone outside getting food had began their return to their seats, and the bus had taken off back down the road. When he came across a song that Lucille liked, he turned to face the teen to let him listen, only for the angel to slump onto his lap, asleep. He tried to ease Lucille upright, but he didn't budge, only cuddled up to his chest, causing Edgar to blush.

_Aww... he looked so cute._

Edgar gently stroked Lucille's hair and bit down on his lip, gazing down at the soft, innocent expression on his face. He put an arm over the teen's back and pulled him close, watching as the angel pressed closer for him for warmth. The demon leaned down to him, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. "Love you, Angel." He whispered, then slowly drifted off to sleep.


	2. Predator and Prey

Stefan slowly limped towards the forest opening, breathing in ragged gasps with every forced, feeble step that brought him forward, growling under his breath as a hot, stabbing pain ripped its way up his leg like a flaming live wire, nearly sending him tumbling to the mud covered grass below.

Rain came bucketing down hard, drenching everything it came into contact with, Stefan included, and didn't hesitate to deliver even more unneeded stinging pain to his slowly healing injury.

Blood gushed down from the large gash in his leg, staining his jeans a deep, dark red. A huge tear had been slashed open in the upper area of his leg where the gash was, and he slipped off his shirt and tied it tightly around the bleeding wound to combat it, hoping that it would stop the nearly fatal blood flow.

Eventually, he managed to hobble weakly into the forest and was greeted by a frigid gust of howling wind that sent a wave of shivers climbing up every individual bone in Stefan's spine.

The forest was extremely dark, with barely fifteen feet of visibility, peppered with thick with thorn covered underbrush and tall, sturdy oak trees that sprayed leaves out into the air in the harsh wind.

_Where was it?_

A faint humming echoed through the forest, causing Stefan to whip around to face the noise, gritting his teeth hard and grunting as a rush of pain raced up his leg once more. Before him stood a young girl crouched down next to a small pond with a basket woven from thin strips of wood in her hand, surrounded by a grove of golden yellow buttercups.

She was plucking them in fistfuls and placing them carefully into her basket, paying no notice whatsoever to the teen behind her.

Butterflies of all types and colors surrounded Stefan curiously, as if sent to examine him like he were some sort of foreign specimen, then waved him away and hovered back towards the little girl once they had found no further interest in him.

"Butterflies. Omens of death, to some." Stefan recalled, addressing the young child, folding his arms over his chest with a sigh. "But are they here for me, or are they here for you?"

Finally noticing him, the girl turned to face Stefan and stood, a wide, toothy smile spreading across her face.

With that smile, however, came eight carefully arranged deadly rows of ivory white fangs. She giggled loudly, and for a moment Stefan couldn't tell if it was genuine laughter, or the laughter of the insane, deranged beast she was.

"Ooh, come to play with me little boy?" Came her voice, a mangled mix between a small child's and what could only be described as one belonging to a demonic entity. She stretched out her words, playing with the sounds, repeating them over and over again as if trying them out on her thin, snake-like tongue.

Stefan laughed slightly at her words.

"Come to die?" She cackled once more, throwing her head back in fits of laughter.

The teen tugged a damp, slightly bloodied notepad from his pocket and pulled out the pen he'd stuck in the rings, flipped open the pad, and began to extend his wide range of notes he had taken prior to arriving.

"Alright then. A siren. Your lackeys were tough, I'll admit, giving me this wound, and all," Stefan gestured to his leg, "so that would make you... a class four. Disappointing."

"Ah, so you have come to play!" She replied, the grin on her lips splitting her face in two.

Suddenly, she stopped moving altogether, and stood glaring over at Stefan, eyes glowing an iridescent violet color. Waves of water rippled in the pond, slowly rising into the air, and with a point of the girl's finger, spears of water were sent hurtling towards Stefan.

The teen twisted sharply to the right to avoid the spires, tightly grasping the black ring on his finger and slipping it free, a deep, black sword replacing it in his palm. The waves approached his head, aiming for an easy, fatal blow to end him, but Stefan brought his sword's blade up and outward, slicing it neatly in half, sending water spraying onto the grass.

The siren shrieked angrily, and Stefan rushed forward, fueled by pure adrenaline, and drove the blade deep into its chest.

"Playtime's over, I'm sorry to say." He said, watching as the monster's eyes rolled back into its head, and its head slumped to the side. Stefan yanked his sword out with a grunt, taking loose entrails with it, groaning slightly at the sight.

Quickly as ever, he tossed the sword into the air, and it reverted back into his ring, falling back onto his finger.

"A job well done." Allistaire praised, stepping out from the shadows, a mildly satisfied expression on his ever-emotionless face. "Now, let's see how you fare with..." He paused, watching as a pair of long, ivory fangs slipped past Stefan's lips as the teen bent down to feed from the body of the siren, the wound on the teen's leg healing almost instantly, "a different type of prey."


	3. The Crimson Android

The scientist rushed into the common room, his once crisp and clean white lab coat covered in burns, and torn through in some places. His hair was plastered flat against his skull with sweat, and he panted hard, one of his glasses lenses shattered and the other missing, and they hung from his left ear for dear life. He reached a desperate hand out to the teen sitting in an armchair, nodding thankfully when he immediately came to his side and helped him regain his composure. After a few seconds, William caught his breath and gave the teen's arm a firm squeeze.

"Teryn, please! I-I need..." He stopped to cough violently into a fist, flecks of blood staining his palm when he ceased. "I need your help! D-Dmitri, he... he's gone haywire. I need you to come with me!" The scientist begged, tugging him along behind him. "He's been attacking any living thing in sight! I-I... managed to lock him in the lab―please, you know Dmitri! He loves you like a brother, I need you to help!"

"Will, you need to sit down and tell me what exactly is happening." Teryn started calmly, easing William into a chair and handing him a glass of water from the coffee table. "I can tell this is urgent, but try to give me the short of it. What did Dmitri do to you? I mean you're―you're practically untouchable, so how...?"

William took a few gulps from the water, sighed, then caught his breath and clenched his trembling hands into fists. "He's stronger than me. S-something went wrong, and he―he attacked me. Like I'd told you from the beginning; Dmitri was a failed experiment, and it would have been better if I had destroyed him! His ―his eyes―they were red-"

"Where is he? I'll calm him down, and―"

"No!" William shouted, gripping Teryn's shoulders tightly and shaking them, his facial expression growing serious. "You don't understand! It's not going to be that easy―have you seen what he's done to me?!" The scientist gritted his teeth. "I need you to shut him down!" He growled, saying the last few words slowly, as if they pained him more than anything else. "I sent James in there, and I had to rush him to the infirmary where Lindsey has been tending to him. He was nearly killed!"

Teryn eased William's hands off of him and shook his head. "I-I can't just shut him down! He―he's my friend! I could never do that to him! Couldn't you―couldn't you detain him and rewrite his programming?" He asked hopefully, eyes widening when William shook his head. The teen bit his lip, gasping in surprise as William wrapped his arms around him sympathetically.

"Please. I know you care about him, but I think you're the only one who can do this." William spoke gently, rising from the chair and grasping Teryn's wrist. "Come with me. Please, I'm begging you."

"I'm _not_ shutting him down."

"So be it, but you have to help me." Will dragged the teen down to the lab, stumbling every few steps, and sounds of explosions along with multiple objects slamming against metal and shattering filled the room. William threw open a cabinet lined with various weapons and tossed Teryn a cybernetic sword and a shield.

Hesitantly, Teryn nodded and allowed William to clip a speaker and a microphone to his belt. "Now go!" The scientist yelled, ushering him into the room and sliding open the broken bulletproof glass door, shutting it tightly behind him. He rushed to his control booth and started it up, pressing down hard on a red square on his keyboard. "Teryn, can you hear me?"

Static crackled in Teryn's microphone, and he could hear William's voice over it. He wanted to reply, but was too shocked at the sight before him.

Dmitri was tearing apart everything in sight, and blood was splattered on the floor, his eyes blazing a deep crimson. The teen screamed and landed his fists at the walls, denting them in, and multiple fires raged on electrical objects and wires, sending a blazing heat through the room.

"Teryn, do you copy?!"

_Oh god... Dmitri._

Teryn felt his heart squeeze in his chest. _He couldn't hurt him. Not Dmitri._ He pressed the button on his microphone and spoke in a hurt tone, "I copy." The teen slowly let his sword fall to the floor with a clatter, but he kept his shield.

"T-Teryn, what do you think you're doing?! Grab your sword, now! He'll kill you!"

Dmitri's head snapped towards Teryn's direction at the sound, and he immediately lunged for him, pinning him down to the floor. He screamed mercilessly, a wild look in his crimson eyes, and a wide grin on his lips. His arms set fire, and he wrapped his hands around Teryn's neck.

This couldn't be Dmitri.

Teryn began to choke, and he threw Dmitri off of him, gingerly massaging his throat and coughing, attempting to ignore the searing burns on his skin. He examined the teen in front of him with his familiar black leather jacket, and chestnut brown hair with a teal streak that he'd dyed into his bangs. Everything looked the same, except for his eyes.

An irritated roar erupted from Dmitri's throat, and he launched a kick at Teryn's stomach, denting the bronze shield that Teryn used to protect himself. "Leave me alone!" He demanded, leaping for the smaller teen, only to miss when Teryn slid beneath a desk. "Get out!"

Air whistled past Teryn's ears as the desk was launched away from him, and he began to panic when he caught eye of Dmitri looming over him. "D-Dmitri, come on! It's me! D-don't you―agh!" He cried as Dmitri sent a fist hurtling towards him. Teryn attempted to smack Dmitri on the head with the shield, but the other teen caught it in his hands and bent it in.

"Teryn, get out of there!" William cried. "Get to the door!"

William's voice only caused Dmitri to become more agitated, and he let out another scream, then smashed the speaker with his boot heel and pinned Teryn up against the wall, eyes widening when he saw the tears spilling down his cheeks. He hesitated, then ran his thumb along the trail and clutched his head in pain, his breath becoming short and shaky. Dmitri collapsed to the floor in front of Teryn, letting out cries of pain, and he clawed at the floor.

Teryn dropped to his knees beside Dmitri and held his head in his palms, pressing his lips to his forehead and hugging his chest tightly. "Dmitri! Dmitri, come on! You're okay! I'm here now, I'm here!" He told him, watching as Dmitri's red eyes fixated themselves on his own. "C-come on, I know you're in there somewhere! It's okay, Dmitri! It's all going to be okay!"

"O... kay?" Dmitri mumbled quietly, hesitantly leaning his head on Teryn's chest as he was tugged in for a hug. "Ngh... my head... hurts..." He whimpered, relaxing as Teryn held him close. "Who... who are you?" His eyes widened when he saw Teryn's eyes fill up with more tears, and he shook his head. "N-no... don't... cry!"

"D-Dmitri..." Teryn gently tangled his fingers in Dmitri's hair and pulled him even closer. "It's me, Dmitri. It's Teryn." He whispered softly, ruffling Dmitri's hair in a comforting manner. "C-come on, let's get up, okay? Can you walk?"

A pained look filled Dmitri's eyes, and he pressed his forehead to Teryn's and embraced him. "I don't remember. I'm sorry... Teryn." He whispered, gritting his teeth as Teryn lifted him off of the ground and moved to help him to the door. "No! N-not out there!" Dmitri shoved Teryn away from him and stumbled backwards onto the floor. His eyes filled with pain when Teryn gave him a fearful look, and he shook his head. "I w-won't hurt you. Please, stay!"

"You have to come out, okay? We can help you if you come out. I won't let him shut you down, I promise." Teryn said slowly, cautiously stepping towards the teen and helping him up again, moving back when Dmitri shook his head in refusal. "D-Dmitri, please!" He rushed to the door, banging a fist at it. "William―William, let me in!"

"N-no! Don't leave!" Dmitri begged, moving over to Teryn and blocking his exit. "Teryn, don't go!" He begged, whimpering as Teryn backed away from him. "I w-won't hurt you! Please!" System errors blared in Dmitri's head, and he cried out in a shrill, robotic screech, slamming his fists into the wall, sending a crack running through it.

"L-let me out, Dmitri." Teryn pleaded. "If you won't let me help you, I want to leave. I'm not going to stand for you destroying yourself."

"No! You need to stay! Please!" Dmitri threw his arms around Teryn and nestling his head in his chest, gasping as Teryn broke away and ran for the door. "No!" He slammed Teryn into the wall and cried out when he saw blood trickling down his forehead. "T-Teryn? Oh no―no, please, I didn't mean to! You have to h-help me!"

The teen buried his head in his hands and hugged his knees to his chest. "S-stay away! Please, it's for your own good." He begged, feeling a small pang of guilt strike his chest when Dmitri's face fell. "What happened to you?"

William swiftly opened up the door and grabbed Teryn's hand, his eyes widening as Dmitri tugged Teryn away. "Dmitri, give him here." He said slowly. "Listen to your father. Let Teryn go."

Dmitri hugged Teryn to his chest protectively, then hid among the broken debris, holding his hand over Teryn's mouth and shushing him. "Please, be quiet, okay? You―you need to stay with me Teryn, please." He whispered quietly, frowning as Teryn began to struggle. "No, please! Teryn, listen!"

Teryn bit down on Dmitri's hand and bolted for the door, tugging William out of the room and sliding it shut. Dmitri slammed his palms against the door and cried out.

"No, Teryn... please... I won't... I won't hurt you!" He desperately banged his fists on the glass. "C-come back!"

William gently wrapped a blanket around Teryn's shoulders and hugged him tightly. "You're alright. He's calmer now, at least, and his mental state has improved." He gave Dmitri a pained look and watched as his son collapsed onto the floor, clutching his head. "He just needs some time to recover, or else..." William shook his head and turned the dial on the scenery of the room, switching it to one with cushion padded walls, floor, and ceiling. "I don't know how you did it, but you got him out of his mood."

James stepped out into the room, eyes widening at the sight of Teryn's neck. "Oh no, what did Dmitri do to you?!" He asked frantically, kneeling down to him and hugging him to his chest. "You―you actually got him to stop... here, I'll go grab some bandages-"

"You need to rest, James. Your injuries are too serious to be running around." William said softly, chuckling when his son pouted. "Come and sit here. Teryn needs some better company. I'll go fetch the bandages."

As William strolled off towards the infirmary, James took Teryn into his arms once more and cast a gaze to Dmitri, who was staring out at them, his eyes flickering as he pounded at the door. "I'm sure he didn't mean you any harm." James whispered.

"I-I know, but... my Dmitri is gone. He's suffering from memory loss, and his eyes still haven't gone back to blue yet." Teryn mumbled, placing a hand against the glass door and biting his lip as Dmitri reached out to it. "He didn't want me to leave him. Do you have any idea what sort of system error it could be?"

The junior scientist gave the glass a thoughtful look. "I have no idea." He murmured, then pressed his hand to the bottom of the glass door and melted it through. Dmitri immediately dropped down to it and reached his hand out to grab Teryn's, hiccupping and sobbing miserably.

"Teryn, come back! I-it hurts!" He yelped and whimpered, squeezing Teryn's hand tightly. "Please..."

Tears welled up in Teryn's eyes at Dmitri's wounded tone. "Mitri, please, I can't." He explained. "If you hurt me again, you'll get shut down." He gently tugged his hand out of Dmitri's strong grip, wincing when Dmitri began to shriek.

"Teryn, it hurts―"

James slammed a fist against the glass and shot Dmitri a menacing glare, causing him to shrink back. "Dmitri, get a grip! You're acting like a child!" He snapped, watching as Dmitri hugged his knees to his chest and rocked himself to and fro. "Why do you need him so badly?"

"I need... I need... I need my Teryn!" Dmitri sobbed, burying his head in his arms. "I don't know why... I-I just need my Teryn..." He reached out again and leaned on Teryn's palm as he grabbed hold of it and pulled it towards him.

"He..." James's eyes widened. "He trusts you." He looked to Teryn and smiled apologetically. "He's lost and confused without his memories, but you're the only thing that he can hold onto. Why?"

Teryn bit his lip and let Dmitri snuggle up to his hand, cheeks flushing slightly when the other teen planted a kiss on it without James noticing. "I think..." he shifted his gaze to James. "We should let him out. I'll let him stay with me." The teen said, changing the subject.

"We should wait for my father to get back." James said softly.

William strode into the room, sighing when he saw the hole in the door. "James, what have I told you about being able to melt any object? To not do so in the lab." He groaned, then crouched down to the door and looked to Dmitri. "Can I trust you if I open this door?"

Dmitri's eyes widened, and he quickly took his hand out of the hole with a nod, grinning when William opened the door. He tackled Teryn to the floor and cuddled close to him, hugging him tightly and sniffling, his tears soaking into Teryn's shirt.

"Teryn!" He sniffed, body trembling as he gripped the back of the brunet's shirt in his fists. "It hurts less... when I'm around you." He said softly, crossing his legs around Teryn's waist and letting his eyes flutter shut. "Can you hold me?" The teen requested, smiling sweetly when a pair of arms wrapped him in an embrace. "Thank you."

"I don't understand." William furrowed his brows. "It would take an exceptional bond to be able to have him attached to you in such a state, much less connect with him and calm him down." He remarked, moving a hand to ruffle Dmitri's hair, only for his son to seize up and squeeze Teryn protectively. "I'm not sure how much longer he'll be like this, but if you'll allow me to, Teryn, I would like to see just how strong of a relationship the two of you have."

Teryn smoothed his hands in circles around Dmitri's back. "I'm sure it's only because I didn't attack him. There's no need to go any deeper." He assured, hesitating as Dmitri shook his head. "Mitri, what do you mean?"

"That's... that's not true. I know that's not true, that's the face you make when you're... lying." Dmitri recalled, then cupped Teryn's cheeks in his palms, gazing at him with his dark, red eyes and leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, causing his eyes to flicker and fade to blue.

Upon realizing what he'd done, Dmitri jerked back, holding a hand over his mouth and gazing to his father, who stared at the two, dumbfounded.

"Er... I can explain!" Dmitri took Teryn's hand in his and fussed with his fingers. "Y-you see, er... we... we're sort of... dating." He mumbled sheepishly, rubbing at his neck, embarrassed. "So if you guys could like, y'know, not remember that and forget about it so that we can keep going out in peace?"

William blinked at him. "So much for thinking that you loved him like a brother."

"So... that's the reason you were so clingy." James murmured, massaging at his temples. "I should have known something was up when you two were curled up in each others arms on the couch sleeping away a romance movie." He grumbled. "God, and I'm supposed to be the smart one."

Dmitri ran his hands through Teryn's hair, pressing a determined kiss to his lips. "Thanks for not coming at me with a sword, Terry. And... thanks for bringing me back."

Teryn grinned. "Trust me, with that malfunctioning going on, you're not getting rid of me for a long time." He tousled Dmitri's hair and let out a sigh. "I love you, Mitri."

"I love you, too."


	4. The Runaway Prince

Zero fell back on a pile of hay, a few stray pieces clinging to his clothing. Overall, a tattered farm wasn't an ideal place to be taking refuge from a storm, especially uninvited, but he had to make due with what he could find. With the looks of the place, it didn't seem to have been visited by a soul in years. Mold and moss clung to the wall in thick quantities, and a foul-smelling must filled the air, mixed in with the stifling scent of stale, wilted hay. Zero's most loyal companion and retainer took a seat beside him, turning his nose up in mild disgust at the texture of the mottled plants.

"My Lord, if I may?" Elias shifted about to make himself comfortable, propping his bow and quiver up against the rotting walls and rubbing his hands together to try to keep warm, waiting until Zero nodded to him to continue. "With all due respect, sir; what the hell are we doing in a rubbish heap such as this? You carry a satchel of gold, yes? Why not book a room at a local inn?" He asked, undoing the ribbon keeping his virtually flawless updo intact before tucking it into the pocket of his trousers. "I only ask out of my concern for your wellbeing, although I find myself unhappy with our circumstances, if I am to be perfectly honest."

The prince hummed, bending a single leg over the other and laying his head back on his palms. "You know as well as I do that we can't risk being seen. We're not even remotely close to the neighboring kingdom if we continue traveling by foot, and I'm almost certain that my father has sent countless messengers with our detailed descriptions out to the far reaches of the border. Maybe even Illusio!" He heaved a weary sigh and shook his head in disbelief. "It's dangerous, and if we're attacked, I wouldn't want to see you hurt."

Elias chuckled, amused, his brows lifting as his lips formed into a wry grin. "With all due respect, milord, I prove to be skilled in the arts of combat. If anything, it is I who should be worried for you." He quipped, folding his arms over his chest and reluctantly allowing his head to touch the damp pile, giving a distasteful twitch at the unfamiliar sensation. "You've only just turned eighteen a few days ago, need I remind you."

A scoff slipped from Zero, who rolled his eyes. "Don't patronize me, Elias, you're only twenty. And I've told you countless times; you can just call me Zero." He grumbled, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "Actually, if I remember correctly, we began training at the same time after I took you in, so you really have no advantages." Zero pointed out, laughing as a fist thumped against his shoulder. "I remember it so clearly, too. I believe I was twelve? Yes, that sounds about right. Father took Cyrus and I on an educational trip around the countryside, and I made him stop our carriage. There's a wolf out there, Father, I said. He's all bloody, I have to do something."

There was a long moment of silence as Elias seemed hesitant to finish the story, and the retainer instinctively ran his fingers along his scarred arms. "Yes... then you jumped out quite frantically. I-It was indeed frightening to have such a regal looking boy dashing to my aid. And my master came running with the-" his voice wavered, and he cleared his throat, "with the cat. You took a lashing for me before your father had to rush out to stop it. He struck him down with a single blow, and you - you insisted that you'd take me back to the castle to care for me." Elias smiled fondly. "I remember you wouldn't let me out of your sight for a second. You even slept on the floor so I could rest comfortably on your bed. You were quite surprised when I turned out to have a human form. Oh, and my training. Some future retainer I was, breaking dishes, ruining tea, and the like."

"When I was sick, you once gave me a tablespoon of vinegar instead of my medicine."

"Indeed!" Elias laughed, covering his mouth with a palm at the thought to stifle his laughter. "You never once actually treated me like a servant." He met his master's eyes and felt his heart ache a little at how oblivious Zero was to how fondly he gazed at him, and clenched the stone held in his palm tightly. His body was enveloped in a warm, golden glow, and when it dissipated, Elias lay by Zero's side in his wolf form.

"Come, get some sleep." Zero gently stroked Elias's ears and gave his head a comforting pat, wrapping himself up in his cloak. "You deserve some rest." He murmured, when a cold, wet nose nudged his cheek. "What? What is it?"

Elias let out a huff and stood from the pile of hay, then curled around Zero's shivering form. The prince's eyes widened slightly at the gesture, and he nestled his head in the thick, warm fur of Elias's neck. "Goodnight Elias."

When Zero awoke, he was met with the pleasing sight of a bag filled to the brim with delicious looking pastries. The prince rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned, stretching out his stiff limbs before sitting up. Elias sat beside the outer edges of the barn doors in his wolf form, staring pensively into the distance.

"Elias," Zero called, trembling from the cold. "I told you not to go out. It's not safe."

The retainer gazed over his shoulder, then shifted back into his human form and drew back, revealing the bow by his side.

"I'm fine... Zero."

His master's name felt odd to finally say for the first time in years, but he supposed if he said it enough times, it would come easier. Perhaps he wouldn't even have to think before saying it. He rose from the dirt and strode over to his master's side, opening the bag of pastries and plucking one from the bunch, taking a large bite, leaving smudges of icing on his lips. Elias gave a choking cough, unused to eating sugary food, and a mouthful of crumbs spilled onto the ground.

"I know this isn't much." He coughed once more and pulled a cloth from his pocket, wiped his lips, folded it up, and tucked it back away. "But it's all I could manage to afford."

"All you could afford?" Zero furrowed his brows. "But before you left, I gave you - oh dear, that isn't..." He gawked as Elias slid a sheathed sword from inside the cloak and hesitantly took it into his gloved palms, then glanced up at his companion, mystified. "But why?"

Elias merely chuckled and drew back, allowing Zero to slip the sword out into view, feeling quite pleased with himself. "If you plan on fighting, you'll need a great deal more than that ruddy tome you insist upon carrying around." He motioned to the faintly glowing book like object beside Zero for emphasis. "Now come, I bought us food for a reason. We should eat."

Zero gave an enthusiastic nod and tugged a frosted treat free from the bag, digging into it. If he'd have acted like that at the table in front of his father, the man surely would have given him a firm slap across his face. Even Elias was surprised at the prince for acting so ungraceful.

"Wow!" Zero exclaimed, holding a hand under his mouth to prevent crumbs from dirtying his clothing. "You really do have a good nose, Eli."

Another laugh, and Elias nodded his head. "Yes, I suppose being a shifter would come with that asset." He joked, ruffling Zero's hair and smiling thinly. "Now, my liege, where do you wish to venture to today?"


	5. Delarose

A sharp bang exploded from the barrel of the revolver clenched tightly in the teen's fist, his hand popping upwards from the recoil. His target, Charles Jameson, head of the fifth largest corporation as a food manufacturer, was officially dead, with a quarter sized hole gushing blood and brain matter from the back of his head, along with another smaller hole in his forehead.

The man's eyes flew open wide, then glassed over, and he slumped down in his chair.

There was a brief set of worried murmurs from the next floor within earshot, and footsteps began to pace up the stairs to investigate.

With a wicked grin, the perpetrator used his knee to butt the expensive looking rotating chair towards the windows, tightly gripping the tie of Charles's shirt with his glove before kicking in the inner frame of the window and tossing the deceased businessman to what would surely have been his demise if he weren't already dead. The teen swiftly turned to the desk the chair had formerly rested beside and pulled open one of the drawers, only to find it had been a well camouflaged cover for a small safe, secured with a combination lock.

The footsteps drew closer and closer to the room, and before long, fists and shoes slammed at the door to break it down, until the lock finally gave way.

However, when the employees entered their boss's office, all that was found was a trail of blood leading towards the broken center window, an empty safe, and a note with a symbol of a rose that had been stamped with blood.

_To whom it may concern,_

_Don't take it personally, but the company's bankrupt as of Mister Jameson's death. Try running faster next time, maybe you could have caught me._

_With love,  
Delarose _


	6. A Stowaway

Ramone ran a gelled hand through his hair, slicking it back, and wiped the remains on a nearby rag hanging at the side of his seat, as it usually did, then pressed a series of buttons on the control panel before him, causing a holographic screen display to span outwards in front of him, reflecting his image. The teen made a face, then adjusted the cravat tied snugly beneath his shirt collar, tucking the ends into his freshly ironed vest and slipping on a pair of gloves, along with a simple tailcoat that had recently seen the dry cleaner's.

Today's job, the time traveler thought, was supposed to be relatively easy. All he had to do was buy a newspaper and bring it back to his boss so they had an accurate view on the events before an earthquake that had been caused by a fellow time-traveler's death due to an encounter with a deadly paradox destroyed most of the records in the nearby archives.

It was December of eighteen-twenty-two in London, and Ramone had come running only a few hours after the unnatural event had been recorded as a historical error at his workplace, eager to experience one of his first natural disasters.

The redhead gazed about the alleyway through the glass of the time transporter, searching for any occupants, finding none, and slid a hand into his coat pocket, pressing the button inside. With a soft whirring sound, the glass slid open, and small, fold-out staircase extended outwards, barely reaching the ground.

Ramone hummed thoughtfully. He'd have to buy an upgrade.

He stepped down onto the crumbling gravel, the loose rocks crunching beneath his boot heels, then pushed the button again, closing the roof, and tapped the side of the vehicle, activating the transparency setting, its functions silencing.

Crisp afternoon air washed over the teen's body, causing goosebumps to race up his arms with a shiver. Deep gray clouds hung heavily in the sky, ready to pour down rain onto the future tragedy as opposed to snow, and the time traveler grumbled curses under his breath, having forgotten his umbrella.

Ramone stepped out of the alley, easing himself into the steadily streaming crowd of people heading to work, most of them of which would be dead in mere minutes, due to the time anomaly in the future's yesterday. There was no guarantee Ramone would survive, either, but he liked to think that his survival training would pay off.

"Ah! Monsieur - w-watch out!" A voice cried, and a slightly smaller teen knocked into the taller, sending the both of them sprawling onto the ground.

The boy cried out in pain, the camera around his neck breaking upon contact with the road, his newspapers flying into the streets, quickly being soiled by the damp road and carriage tracks.

"Oh no! My - my papers! They're ruined! Mon caméra!" He scrambled to salvage a few, sulking when he found them unable to be sold, then gazed over to Ramone, who groaned a little from the steady pulsing heat in his head, and bit his lip. "I-I'm so sorry! S'il vous plaît, let me help!"

A surprised look flickered on Ramone's face, and he shook his head as the boy reached out a damp, muddy hand out, pushing himself up instead.

"No, no, I'm alright. Ah..." Ramone averted his attention to the papers, then to the blond before him and offered him a kind smile. "Here, allow me."

He plucked the freshest newspaper from the bunch, roughly estimating the amount left on the ground, and pulled out a drawstring bag filled with coins he'd normally use for emergencies, then placed twenty pounds into the paper boy's palms. 

"Sorry for the trouble."

The blond's eyes flew open wide at the large sum of money he'd been gifted, and he drew in a sharp gasp. "Non, Monsieur, I couldn't take this! It's too much! P-papers are only three pence! It's-" he quieted himself as Ramone closed up the bag and hesitantly met his eyes before darting his gaze to his feet, unsure of whether or not it was an appropriate thing for him to do. "M-merci! This... this is trés utile, I - do... do you hear that?"

A low, subtle rumbling began to shake the ground, and Ramone hesitated, then peeked beneath the cuffs of his shirt at his watch, which read thirteen-ten, when the earthquake was marked to have started.

The redhead looked from the frightened boy hurriedly stuffing coins into his pockets to the trembling buildings, when a large, gaping crack split through the street. Horses reared back, carriages crashed, and terrified screams began to ripple out through the air. People ran for cover as buildings gave scratchy groans and began to crumble.

"Run!" Ramone called to the paper boy, starting off at a jog to the alley where his transporter hovered waiting for him. "Please - run!"

His head whipped in all different directions, trying to recall which direction he'd came from, but was effortlessly shoved flat onto his back once more to be trampled by the merciless shoes of men, women, and children as they barreled towards any areas with a wavering sense of security.

Buildings began to tumble down, caving in on themselves and falling onto innocent victims, crushing civilians left and right until blood and rubble washed over the ground, sending dust flying into the air.

_Time transporter! He needed to get to the time transporter!_

Ramone shakily rose to his feet, blood trickling steadily from his nose and multitudes of places on his arms and chest, his shirt and coat torn.

"Dammit!" He shouted, stumbling off towards the nearest dip between two ruined buildings and rapidly squeezing the remote in his pocket, pulling it out, causing a red beam to shoot  into the air, then twist in the direction of the vehicle. "All of this for a stupid newspaper - I mean, come on!"

"H-help! Somebody! Aidez moi, s'il vous plaît! Please!"

The teen froze at the sobbing voice and twisted around, opening his mouth to try to explain he couldn't help the person, since it was strictly against the code of his job to interfere greatly with the life of another human being in the past, but stopped when he saw the paper boy, who had indeed followed his instructions and ran, but lay beneath a large pile of rubble, his arms sliced open and bleeding, as well as his cheek.

Ramone hesitated, watching as the boy extended an arm out to him. "I..." Ramone shifted his attention back to the beam, then shook his head. "Okay, but this is going to hurt!"

He bent down to the pile and began shoving aside chunks of fallen bricks and glass, wondering how in the hell the newsboy had survived, his gloves quickly becoming bloody as sharp shards pierced his hands.

"Can you move at all?"

The newsboy shook his head, letting out a fearful sob, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks, and Ramone gently pulled on his upper arms, only to receive a yelp from the blond.

"You're going to get me in so much trouble..." he grumbled, lifting a thick chunk of rock from off of the teen and slowly managing to uncover him. "There, you'll be fine now, so don't - holy shit, move!" Ramone tugged him out of the way of a falling wall and heaved a sigh of relief. "Alright, you're safe now-"

"Please, don't leave!" The blond sobbed, gazing up at Ramone with a pair of round, sapphire colored eyes and throwing his arms around his waist. "Don't leave me! Je t'en supplie! Please... if you don't help me, I'll... I'll..." his vision grew darker, and he could feel his consciousness slipping away from him. "I'll... die..."

Ramone held the boy in his arms, reluctantly lifting him off of the ground and following the beam back to his time transporter, where he set the stranger down on the gravel and pulled a medical kit from his supply crate, then hopped down to the ground and crouched down beside the newsboy, pulling off his cap to find his name written on the inside. It read Alois Frédéric.

The redhead lifted a needle and thread from the case and stitched up his wounds, dabbing at the blood with an old, stained shirt.

Eventually, the bleeding lessened, and Alois's breathing was steady, his heart evened out with his breathing.

Ramone rose back to his feet and climbed the stairs to the machine, waiting a few minutes for it to start up.

Alois's eyes fluttered open, his limbs throbbing with pain, and he stared up at the time machine in front of him, his mouth falling open, dropping even farther down when he saw Ramone in the pilot seat. The teen silently crawled up onto a stair, whimpering and clinging to the stairs as they folded into a large, open panel, taking him with them before he could remind himself he needed to let go.

"And she purrs!" Ramone gave his machine a loving pat and threw his coat onto the floor behind him, unbuttoning his vest before punching in the time he belonged to and running a hand through his hair.

Blinding assortments of color swirled around the time transporter, jarring it a bit as it sped through the wormhole, which was strange, since it had never done anything like it before. "Huh? What the hell - ack!" Ramone was thrown out of his seat and onto the floor, furrowing his brows at the warning flashing on his screen. "Dammit, what's going on?!"

"Ack - help me!" Alois cried, causing Ramone to stiffen.

"Computer," Ramone began loudly, "show me the stair compartment!"

A screen flew up on the hood of his transporter, showing the paper boy curled up, squished inside the compartment crying out in pain from the position he was in.

"Oh god, you have _got_ to be kidding me."


	7. The Divine Dragon

Alfonse clasped his hands together, the smooth dragon stone glowing brilliantly between his palms, its color flashing an entrancing mix of gold and cerulean blue. He let his eyes fall closed and drew in a deep, steady breath to slow his racing heart. The teen brought his hands to his chest and his forehead to the stone.

_For the glory of my father._

Alfonse heaved out a sigh and felt his nerves calm themselves, his hands beginning to glow a deep shade of violet. “Divine Dragon, I call on thee! Heed my voice and be summoned! By this blood,” he held the stone in his right palm and lifted a golden knife into the other, then ran it along his wrist and let the blood soak the stone. “I bind thine soul to mine!” Alfonse felt a flaming heat race through his body and let out a cry of pain. “ _Come!_ ”

A blinding light flashed inside of the room, and a gloved hand smoothed through Alfonse’s hair, and the teen’s eyes fluttered open, only to fall upon a tall, lean figure standing above him, his eyes a striking shade of purple with golden hair hanging elegantly below his hips. He was clad in white and golden armor, and a matching sword hung at his side.

“Are you… my summoner?” The dragon asked in a soft, velvety voice, a smile spreading over his lips as Alfonse nodded. “Thank you. I must say, I’m honored that someone would go about the trouble of summoning one such as I to this… where am I, exactly?" He queried, slightly confused and incredibly surprised. "No one has ever brought me to somewhere this… docile.”

The teen tilted his head to the side, gazing closely at the man before him, gasping sharply as he realized just who he had summoned. He stumbled back onto the tiles, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. “You’re - you’re Michael! You’re Chaos!” He bit his lip and shakily rose to his feet. “I… oh god, you’re actually-”

“It’s Micael, actually.” Micael corrected politely, reaching out for Alfonse’s hand and biting his lip when the boy shrank back. “Ah - no, it’s quite alright, my dear. There’s no need to be scared. I can’t hurt a single soul without your permission. That is how it works these days, is it not?”

He gently took Alfonse’s stone into his hands and smoothed his fingers over it, smiling as its color bled into a deep shade of violet, matching his eyes. “I cannot thank you enough for freeing me. Consider me forever in your debt, Master…”

“Alfonse.” The teen cleared his throat and regained his composure, straightening his back and clenching his hands into fists. “S-so… it’s Micael? Like mick-ale? I-I’m - my apologies, my lord, I-”

Micael cupped Alfonse’s cheeks in his palms and slid a hand down to take his hand, then held it to his lips. “I am but a servant, Master Alfonse. However, if I may request, it would please me if you were to call me Mica.” He said softly, pressing a kiss to Alfonse’s fingers before turning his palm upwards and examined the pool of blood rolling down his arm. “Might I assist in cleaning your wound?”

Alfonse glanced from Micael to his wound and hesitated. “Oh… right. That. Erm… sure, if you want, I guess. I could always get it wrapped up, instead.” He murmured, flinching as the taller man ran his finger along the cut on his wrist. The wound flashed, then sealed itself up. “H-how did you-”

“I’m the divine dragon, Chaos. I may be a bringer of death, but I may heal if I wish.” Micael slid off his glove and licked the blood from his finger with a mysterious smile before helping his master off of the floor. “Do forgive me if I frightened you, Master Alfonse, but I’ve noticed that you don’t seem too pleased to see me. I’m aware that I am not what you expected, and I know that I’m a bearer of destruction, but… I must suit your purpose, mustn't I?”

“S-suit… my purpose? I don’t understand.”

A look of confusion flickered over Micael’s face. “You’re a summoner, are you not? You must know of the conditions.” He said, surprised when Alfonse shook his head. “A dragon is called to their summoner to suit their lifelong needs.” Micael explained, gently taking the younger man’s hand in his own. “I’m bound to you until your death.”

Alfonse hesitated. “Oh ━ oh god… I… it didn’t say that in the journals…”

“Forgive me, Master Alfonse, but what exactly was your intent for summoning me?”

The prince bit his lip. “I-I just… well, you weren’t summoned for me, exactly.” He admitted, hanging his head in shame. “We’re in the midst of a war, and my father needs your help. He’s not able to summon a dragon, so he sent me to summon one instead, since I have the blood to do so.” Alfonse hugged his arms around his chest, the thought of how easily his wound had healed in the back of his mind. “My apologies, Lord Micael.”

Micael shook his head. “Alfonse,” He began, his tone soft and comforting, “Don’t apologize. I’ve been forced to sleep for thousands of years, unable to be released. I shall do anything you ask of me. And please, as I requested before,” The dragon paused to brush his lips over Alfonse’s hand once more, gazing up at him as he did so, his violet eyes flashing with untapped mystery, “call me Mica.”


	8. Making a Splash

Tazomir ran a hand through his hair, poring over his spell book and occasionally glancing over at Malice, who seemed to be in a daze as he gazed blankly at their partner project. He'd been noticing his strange behavior for the past few days, but he didn't want to press the issue out of respect for his boyfriend's privacy. However, he didn't want to be stuck doing the work himself.

A frown slipped onto his lips, and he reluctantly reached out towards the teen, tapping on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up and jump.

"H-hey, um... are you planning on working, Mal?" He asked as politely as he could, tilting his head to the side and pushing their assignment towards him and giving him an expectant look. "If you don't want to, I'm not against doing it myself, but... I'm worried about you. If you need any help, I'm more than happy to."

Malice bit his lip. "Ah, sorry about that." He shook his head, offering a genuinely apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to, Taz, I spaced out. Where were we, again?" The brunet asked, taking a peek at Tazo's spell book to find that they were supposed to be practicing their water spells. "Oh! R-right, water. I didn't mean to not take part, I'm just not feeling too good. I probably caught something, with all of the different illnesses sweeping around the academy as of late."

His hands trembled slightly as he gripped his pen above the paper, poised to write, however, the words seemed to swim about on the page. "Erm... do you think you could read this for me? Sorry again, Taz." He moved to massage at his temples with a groan, hugging his arms around his chest. "I'll definitely make it up to you, I swear, something's just messing with me."

The mage furrowed his brows. "Yeah, sure. Here, we're just supposed to describe how to perform our basic water spells." Tazo cracked open his canteen of water, taking a sip from it before setting it on the desk, turning to face Malice. "You know how to do serpent d'eau, right? Creating a defensive snake from water?" He queried, hesitating when Malice's gaze shifted away from him and tracing it to water. "Oh, are you thirsty? You can have some, if you want."

A thankful expression passed over Malice's face, and he sighed in relief. "Thank you so much, you have no idea." He grasped the canteen and pushed it to his lips, gulping down the entirety of its contents and heaving out a sigh, placing the empty canteen on the desk, hesitating at the shocked look on Tazo's face. "M-my bad, I guess I was a bit thirsty. Um... do you need me to get more?"

"No, no, it's okay, darling, I'm perfectly fine for now." Tazo said softly, causing a light blush to sweep over Malice's cheeks at his words. "Now come, show me how you do it so I can write the analysis."

Malice raised his hands, drawing in a steady breath to calm himself. "I... I can do this." He assured himself, then swayed his hands about, enticing the water to rise from the bowl centered on their desk and swirl about to form a snake, which playfully darted towards Tazo's face and squirted water at him, earning a pleasant shriek from the redhead. "Ah!" The teen clutched at his head, and the water snake collapsed onto the table, water droplets spraying at the two. "Ow..."

Tazo frantically waved his hands about, moving the water back into the bowl and sealing it up before grabbing a towel to dab at Malice's face. "Hey, really, are you okay, Mal? What's the matter?"

The bell signaling the end of class for the day sounded off, echoing through the room, and the remainder of the students immediately flooded out of the classroom, leaving the two alone.

"How about you come back to my room? I'll fix us both up something to eat, and bring some vitamins for you. Does that sound alright, Mallie?" Tazo inquired, smiling thinly as Malice nodded and taking him by the hand, leading him out of the classroom. "You're probably fine, so there's no need to worry. You'll be especially fine after some vitamins. Now, come!"

Malice smiled endearingly, appreciative of the concern Tazo was having over him. "If you insist." He chuckled, allowing himself to be half guided, half tugged to the ginger's dorm room, where he was seated firmly on his bed. However, his mind began to totter, and he fell back onto the bed. "Er... T-Taz, do you mind if I take a bath, babe?"

Tazo quirked a brow at him. "Sure, I guess. There are clean towels on the rack, if you need one. Use as much hot water as you like, dear, I don't mind."

The brunet's lip twitched slightly at the foreign word, but he did like it when Tazo called him dear, or darling. Malice moved to the bathroom, gazing at himself in the mirror.

Thank god, he wasn't suspicious.

He locked the door, slumping down against it and holding his head in his hands, massaging at his temples. Malice slipped off his shirt, followed by his pants, and he crawled towards the shower, rising to his feet and stepping inside the tub. The teen grasped the faucet, closing the curtain with his free hand and turning on the hot water, letting it spill over his back with a sigh of relief. He laid himself down in the tub, allowing the water to ripple across his skin and using a foot to press down on the drain plug.

There was a soft, blue light that surrounded Malice's waist and legs, and he leaned his head back with a groan. When he glanced back down, his legs had formed into a deep, orangish red tail, streaked and spotted with pearl white splotches. He stretched out his tail, giving his fins a flick and settling down into the water, dipping his head beneath the surface as it reached his stomach, his deep, black hair billowing upwards.

That had been his first ever experience having water withdrawals, and he didn't want to suffer through the constant exhaustion, migraines, and stiffness in his legs again, so he decided he'd take an extra long soak in case he didn't get a chance to go for a swim in the next week or so.

Malice opened up his mouth, blowing up bubbles of air and watching as they danced their way up towards the surface, where they popped, disappearing. The mer rolled over onto his side, flicking his tail upwards to turn off the water before settling down, allowing his eyes to flutter closed.

Tazo hummed sweetly as he prepped their lunch, raising a hand over the different components and watching while the rice was pressed atop a layer of dried seaweed for sushi and strips of salmon laid themselves evenly across the rice.

"Poor Mal. Probably overworked himself again." He remarked, rolling up the mixture of foods and slicing them into evenly proportioned rolls. "All done." The ginger placed the rolls out on a large plate, then made his way over to the bathroom door, knocking softly. "Hey, Mal? I'm coming in!"

He tried the door, frowning and furrowing his brows when he found it to be locked.

"Hey, are you okay in there?" Tazo called, knocking a bit harder before pulling a pin from his hair and shoving it in the lock. He grasped the knob tightly and twisted, pushing open the door and rushing in, immediately taking hold of the shower curtain and wrenching it aside, crying out in surprise at the sight of Malice's tail. "Holy hell!"

The teen stumbled in surprise, half falling into the tub before stopping himself by pressing his palm against Malice's tail, knocking his phone into the bathtub, as well as one of his rubber ducks, causing Malice's eyes to flutter open.

The two stared blankly at each other for a moment, until Malice's face morphed into confusion at the shocked look on his boyfriend's face.

"Taz, what's..." He paused, realizing he was still in the bathtub, and his eyes grew wide. He shot upwards, sending water flying, and sucked in a breath. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, you weren't supposed to see that! Er... um ━ please, don't━"

"No! No, it's... it's fine. It's fine." Tazo held his hands out in front of him, reaching down to grab his fallen phone and slowly drawing his hand away from the scaly tail, grateful to see that the device turned on. "It's fine. You don't have to explain anything." He said, which seemed to surprise the mer, who bent his tail slightly to hug it to his chest, listening intently. "You... erm... wow. I mean, wow."

Malice chuckled nervously. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry with how long I was in here, or anything." He bashfully gazed down into the water, avoiding Tazo's gaze. "You know how it is with warlocks and such trying to find a male mer for magic enhancement spells and the like. I couldn't be too careful."

Tazo offered Malice a sympathetic smile and took a seat beside the tub, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'd never hurt you, Mal." He said softly, reaching out and cupping his cheek, glancing to his tail and stroking it gently, mesmerized with the feeling of slick, radiant scales beneath his fingertips that shone like brilliant stones. "You definitely have to take me out swimming sometime."

"Yeah, of course! I'd love to!" Malice slipped onto his stomach, resting his arms on the edge of the tub and giving his tail a playful flick. "I'm surprised you're not... y'know, freaked out. I mean, you just walked into the bathroom, and your boyfriend is sleeping in a bathtub with a glorified fish tail." He remarked teasingly with a soft chuckle. "I sort of assumed you'd be freaking out if you ever found out, but I suppose I'm wrong."

A nervous look flickered over Tazo's face, and he ran his fingers along the scales, folding an arm beside Malice's and setting his chin atop it, staring into the water. "It'll certainly take some getting used to, that's for sure, but nothing I can't handle." He stated, then glanced up to meet Malice's eyes. "Don't worry, I swear I won't tell anyone."

Malice grinned appreciatively, throwing his arms around Tazo's chest and hugging him tightly, drenching his shirt with water. "Thank you, Taz. Thank you so much." He said, when he caught eye of a rubber duck floating on the surface of the water, bobbing up and down. "Do you still seriously have rubber ducks in your bathtub?"

Tazo's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Er ━ well, yes, but that doesn't matter━"

"You're Mister High-And-Mighty Alpha-Mage, top of your class, fiercest spellcaster in the school, and you bathe with a rubber duck?"

"Tell you what ━ don't tell anyone about my duck, and I won't tell anyone about your fishy secret. Does that seem fair to you?"

Malice seemed to contemplate the bargain for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "I guess so."

The mage gave Malice's head a pat. "Alright now, big guy, I don't suppose you'd be in the mood for sushi, would you?" He asked, tilting his head to the side, when his lover flashed him a wide, eager grin.

"On the contrary!" Malice quipped, his eyes lighting up. "I quite love sushi. Mer-kind are especially fond of fish! You've made sushi?"

Tazo gave him an amused look, rising from the floor and moving out back into the main room, taking the plate of food and returning to the bathroom, where Malice sat awkwardly waiting for him, his tail pressed up against the wall.

"You really should make this more often, Tazo." Malice hummed, swishing a finger about in the air, causing a few rolls to fly into the air, surrounded by a green glow, and they landed into his mouth with a soft plop. "Ah! It's delicious!"

Tazomir raised a hand, and the remainder of the rolls spiraled into the air, surrounding themselves around Malice, who chomped at them with fervor. "I definitely enjoy seeing you so excited. How could I refuse making you happy with more of your favorite food?" He said softly, taking a few pieces of their lunch for himself from out of the air before gazing down at the floor and the massive puddles Malice had created with all of his splashing. "And I'm definitely going to need a bigger bathtub."


	9. Cat Food

Leslie peered over at the teen on the opposite end of the street and furrowed his brows, a doubtful frown forming on his lips. He leaned into the phone in his palm and lowered his voice considerably. "You're sure he's a werewolf, Sir? He... doesn't look like one." The hunter murmured, then slid a ready handgun from a carefully concealed holster around his hips and a silencer from the steep inner breast pocket of his coat. "Should I neutralize the target now, or sedate him and bring him in?"

"Don't get too hasty, Leslie. We're not exactly sure about his danger levels yet, as he tends to be fairly inactive." Marcus explained, drumming his fingers along the edge of his desk, a smirk hidden on his face. "Scope him out for a while - interact with him. He's bound to show some signs in his common behavior without you having to reveal your identity to him. After you've confirmed he is indeed a werewolf, you may take any actions you see fit that do not result in violence. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir." The hunter nodded, hung up the phone, and swiftly slipped his gun into its holster, making sure to tuck the silencer deep into his pocket before he began his walk across the street.

Overall, he didn't seem to be much of a threat, and Leslie could recall sitting beside him in a few classes at school. The teen stood behind the counter of the town's local animal shelter nursing a dying plant back to health with a fresh bag of nutrients, his medium length, honey colored hair brushing into some of the soil as he dipped down to pour water at its roots. To Leslie, he looked less of a werewolf and more of a small dog.

The bells above the door tinkled softly, and Dakota glanced up from behind the plant, immediately straightening his back and clearing his throat, an embarrassed blush forming on his cheeks.

"Oh! H-hi, is... there anything I can help you with?" He asked, offering Leslie a bright, cheerful grin as the hunter nodded his head. "Sweet! What can I do for you?"

A mildly surprised expression made its way onto Leslie's face at how sprightly the werewolf was, and he pulled out his wallet. "Just a small bag of cat food should be fine." He averted his gaze to the various types of cat food lined up on shelves near the entrance and plucked a random brand from the mix, then set it on the counter. Leslie looked around the animal shelter, his eyes falling upon a group of puppies tumbling over each other to get to their mother inside of a relatively large kennel. "Are they much trouble?"

Dakota tilted his head to the side and rung Leslie up for his purchase, following his gaze to the puppies. "No, not really. They're just retrievers, so they're easier than most other breeds." He met Leslie's eyes and handed him the kibble bag. "Do you like dogs? I mean, I see you have a cat, but you can never tell with some people."

There was a moment of thoughtful silence, and Leslie decided to nod. "They're alright, I suppose. I've never had one." He slid a twenty across the counter he'd laced with flakes of silver and lifted the bag into one arm, watching carefully as Dakota took the bill between his fingers before crying out in pain. Leslie narrowed his eyes slightly, smothering a smirk when Dakota painfully clutched at his hand with a hurt look on his face. "Ah!" Leslie feigned surprise. "Are you alright?"

"Um... yeah. Yeah! I'm okay, just... a paper cut, or something. No big deal." Dakota ensured, slipping his shirt sleeve over his fingers before taking the dollar and placing it inside the register. He ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip, wondering what had stung him. "It's like it was filled with mini needles."

"Silver flakes, actually." Leslie mused, causing Dakota's eyes to widen. "I'm going to cut to the chase here - I know you're a werewolf, and I've been assigned to keep you under close surveillance. You're Dakota Williams, correct?"

The werewolf hesitated, then hung his head. "If you're here to kill me, then can I ask you to make it quick?"

Leslie frowned. "W-what?"

"That's why you're here, isn't it? I've done something wrong and someone sent you to kill me?" Dakota asked, his expression saddening. "I saw you across the street, and - and I know there's a gun in your pocket." He admitted. "I won't fight you."

A pounding noise sounded on the back wall. "Kodes, I need you back here! Magnus won't get back in his kennel!"

Dakota glanced from the wall to Leslie, giving him a pleading look. "C-can I go, Sir?"

A small growl formed in Leslie's chest. "Lucky for you, yes."

"Th-thank you!" Dakota whimpered, scurrying off to the back room.

Leslie heaved a sigh.

_Why had he let him go?_


End file.
